“Vera!” said Beatrice reproachfully.
“Let us have a song,” suggested Mr. Holiday.
“Mr. Holiday wishes to sing, Mother,” said Vera, going to the music-rack.
“Nay—I—it’s not me,” Holiday began.
“‘The Village Blacksmith’,” said Vera, pulling out the piece. Holiday advanced. Vera glanced at her mother.
“But I have not touched the piano for—for years, I am sure,” protested Beatrice.
“You can play beautifully,” said Vera.
Beatrice accompanied the song. Holiday sang atrociously. Allport glared at him. Vera remained very calm.
At the end Beatrice was overcome by the touch of the piano. She went out abruptly.
“Mother has suddenly remembered that tomorrow’s jellies are not made,” laughed Vera.